Devil in Disguise
by castielstrenchcoat
Summary: Juliette is trapped in her latest prison. She's determined not to be used as a weapon, but it won't be easy. Written in the style of Tahereh Mafi. Warnette, Warner x Juliette, Juliette x Warner. Rated T. I do not own any of the characters.


A/N: I started reading Shatter Me the other day, and I fell in love with Tahereh Mafi's writing style. So of course I wanted to try it. I am in the middle of reading Shatter Me, so please excuse any details I get wrong (but don't tell me I have it wrong because I don't want to read spoilers). Plus also this fanfiction's title comes from Devil in Disguise by Elvis Presley. I do not own the song or the characters. This is written in Juliette's point of view. I tried to keep it close to the plot, but I changed a few things.

I stare at the boy sitting next to me. His smile intoxicating; he looks like he's hiding a dark secret and I will be the one to reveal it. He's gorgeous He's a sore on my eyes. He's young, but corrupted. His power seeps through his eyes and spreads throughout this sector, watching every move. He holds us down, controlling us in the worst way possible. He's evil, a starved lion, yearning for his next victim. And yet I feel an odd sensation towards him. His eyes search for something in me. I turn away from his gaze, uncomfortable. I will not be an exhibit in a museum, laughed and stared at. He whispers my name once.

" Hello Juliette."

I melt I stare him down. My gaze is fire, burning down civilizations without hesitation.

"I have heard a lot about you, love." He smiles. A cold, hard smile. _He knows._ Of course he knows. I close my mind off. I do not remember the little boy.

I have an imperfection

a blemish

a disease.

I am a weapon with safety forever unlocked. Nobody can ever touch me. When they do unspeakable

unspeakable

unspeakable things happen. I was just trying to help the little boy.

I do not talk to the him.

I cannot talk to the him.

He continues.

"I need you to help me, Juliette." My name rolls off his tongue like it was meant to.

"You need me to torture," I say angrily, surprised at the ferocity of my voice.

"Torture, yes." He doesn't lie. He is straightforward, an arrow of honesty killing my target. "I need your help." I don't want to deny him. I will not be used as a weapon.

"I will never help you," I reply. The answer sounds simpler in my mind.

"You will, in time," He smiles again.

I do not reply. I know he is right. I must help, if I want to live. He sees my resignation in my eyes. He knows he is victorious; will always be victorious.

"Allow me to take you up to your room," He takes a gloved hand and takes my hand. I let him touch me hesitantly He can never truly touch me.

"My name is Warner," He says to me.

"That's your last name, right?" I reply, momentarily forgetting my anger. He stops.

"Yes." He tells me.

"What is your first name?" I say curiously, almost forgetting where I am.

"If you help me, I'll tell you everything you want to know," Warner grins, a sly grin. Somehow I know he's lying. I get up anyway, and he walks me to the elevator without saying another word. It is silent, the kind of silence that is deadly. We reach my floor and we walk to my room and he pulls out a card. The door opens and I see my room. It gives off a fake appearance. It's covered with lavish objects and expensive furniture. But all I can see are the people that gave up everything so I could have this room. The people that were promised happy times but were paid back with starvation and poverty. I will not be bought with material goods.

Warner lets go of my hand and grabs a purple dress on the huge bed.

"Put this on, I picked it out for you. One of my soldiers will accompany you down to meet me at 8," He leaves without looking at me.

I pick up the beautiful dress. It's the perfect size. My heart beats, he picked it out just for me.

I take off my dirty clothes.

The clothes I wore for almost a year.

The year I spent in the asylum, away from human contact.

I was a prisoner

hidden away from the world.

I was a monstrosity.

A threat to the Reestablishment.

I shake the memories from my head, the memories like snowflakes and my head the snowglobe.

I slip on the purple dress without looking at myself in the mirror I am afraid of what I will see.

And a soldier knocks

knocks

and opens my door to accompany me downstairs.

This is my new prison.

This is my new life.

And I will not bow down to anyone.


End file.
